TF2 Shorts
by captainbobbin
Summary: I run the tf2-headcanons. blog, so I receive lots of prompts! I will be putting some of my drabbles here. Please check out my work on the website previously mentioned, there will be lots more there! (These drabbles may include pairings and gore, etc., in the future, so I'm rating M for now)
1. Reunions

**PROMPT - What would happen if they had been apart, relieved from duty, fired, for a lot of years, and had a reunion of some sort? Would they be huggy-huggy, or just grab a plate of macaroni and sit while they go through old photos of Scout getting his butt whooped?**

* * *

A bar would be the place to meet - somewhere off-track in the backroads of the world, the dust and grit reminding them of what used to be their home, their base. The bar is falling apart; a wrecked old shell that never really thrived. Perhaps a handful of the mercenaries had wandered in before on a war-less day. The liquor is the same. The spider-webs and groaning jukebox have not moved in the last fifteen years. The upholstery is still in tatters and each gust of wind and sand causes the window frames to moodily creak. An odd lone stranger or two sat at a seat on their own from time to time, only interested in finding the bottom of their glass.

Engineer arrives first - he never left America, and drove to the bar with mixed feelings. He missed everyone on his team and was looking forward to seeing them, but somehow he felt nervous. Things certainly change over time, even if the bar and its roomy, wretched booths have not. He slips into one of said booths after ordering a beer. He had expected to be first. He had no idea where the others truly went, besides a sparse guess of the Heavy moving to his home country, and the Scout going back to visit his family. Engie had brought a little box of things with him, just in case - a few photographs of his new(ish) house and gadgets he had built, a few faded snapshots of their time in the war together, worn-out hats and gloves aged from wear and tear.

The Sniper trails in, the Demoman close behind him; they are already laughing at something and spot the American immediately. Their arms are stretched wide, and they quickly come over. Snipers skin has aged - a tan making him glow but his face is marred with lines both new and old. His hands are in fingerless gloves, their tips stained from tobacco and dotted with calluses. The Demoman had barely changed besides his hair being longer. His remaining eye had sunken in slightly with age but his grin was wider than ever as he slapped a hand on Engineers familiar back. The jokes and laughter began and the first round of beer was poured out in sincerity.

Perhaps a half-hour later, familiar boots are briskly heard outside, and the Soldier peers around to see them. He is still wearing his helmet and usual stern look, but it melts into a smile as he sees his old comrades. He picks up a bottle before marching over and slipping into the booth. Like the others, the lines of his face have darkened a little, but he is in one piece and is quieter than the others remember. Perhaps he has mellowed with age, they think, and as he holds his beer up to the others in celebration, their glasses clink together with a soft cheer.

The Scout follows quickly, and at first they do not recognise the boy. He is no longer quite a boy - he has grown an inch or so in height but his limbs still seem too gangly to fit him, his hair is still short but has faded to a lighter colour, his cheeks peppered with stubble and his midriff has softened very slightly. He is still as bouncy as ever nonetheless, and bounds over to their table, gripping the Soldier and Demomans heads in his arms and excitedly shouting how happy he is to see them. He slips between them swiftly, eyes and smile wide in genuine enthusiasm to see his old friends. He explains that after leaving their little army and doing a few jobs, he became a fitness instructor to kids; working at a school to teach sports to the new generations. He earns a tidy sum that keeps his mother and family comfortable, and truly loves being able to still run and bat so much without all the bloodshed. Engineer talks briefly about his inventions - he has a few patents under his name that bring in more than enough money to keep building new tech under the radar, which suits him just fine. he brings out the box and his ex-teammates root through and chat, when the door swings open again.

Heavy looks over at them, still the big, broad bastard he ever was. He opens his arms and lets out a laugh as he comes over. "Look at you all! You're starting without us!" Medic quickly follows him in, an unheard conversation with someone outside finishing quickly before he comes over. They look well - Heavy has barely changed besides the soft laughter-lines around his eyes and mouth deepening with use. Medics hair has become more salt-and-pepper than the team had ever seen it, new glasses, and he has perhaps gained a little weight, but the two still stand tall and proud, eagerly joining the happy party in the somewhat too small booth.

Pyro comes in soon enough, almost like they waited for the others to come in. They give a shy wave but smile at the others, ordering some food and following the rest of the mercenaries. The team cannot really tell if they have aged much; glimpses of their face was so few and far between that it could be said that some did not see it at all. But Pyro perks up soon enough, the team welcoming them with open arms and raised glasses as they approach.

The talk comes quickly and happily, jests and jeers coming as hard and fast as the beers and food they ordered. The barkeep would certainly be as happy as his patrons tonight. Some of the mercenaries dig out their own photographs to mix them with Engineers - Scout outside of the school he proudly works at, Sniper giving a thumbs-up while holding a fishing rod someplace in Australia, the Heavy with an arm wrapped around his mother in her kitchen. They laugh as Engineer digs out some snapshots from the time they worked together - Scout looking miserable on Medics stretcher with a bullet embedded in his ass, the Pyro giving a peace sign while stood over the burnt body of the enemy Demoman, Soldier yelling as Scout ran into the enemy base.

Tales were told long into the night as food was shared and drinks drained, stories of family members both found and lost, homes lived in, good times and bad. Arms were frequently wrapped around a neighbours shoulders in fun and comfort, and faces ached from smiling. Hours passed like moments, memories swirling and reconnecting, each thought leading to a hundred other good times and battles and moments together. Laughter echoed throughout the bar all night.

Spy is sat a few booths away, listening intently. Engineer never really had been the first to arrive, and he smiles to himself at the fact that after all this time he still silently blends in, peering into his drink. Perhaps he comes over to the others. Perhaps not. Would they even recognise him without his mask? In all the years the team had banded together and fought side-by-side, none of them truly knew him well; the laughs shared and quiet evenings passing by with the Frenchman stood on the fault-line. He was a ghost. Always had been, always will be. Perhaps he should leave. He gained nothing from being here, only a heartache - of course he never connected with his team, with the closest thing to family he ever had. How could they connect to him? He was untrustworthy and dangerous and, in their eyes and sometimes his own, a coward. The rim of his glass of wine rested on his lower lip, before he silently sipped the last of it down. The laughter had quietened somewhat.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and he turned to see the Medics aged yet welcoming face glance down at him.

"Care to join us, old friend?"

He supposed that things never really do change.


	2. Sideways

**PROMPT (sorta) - Sideways by Citizen Cope**

* * *

Sniper mutters the words in a melancholy tone while sat alone in his van, wondering what the fuck is happening to him, how did everything happen? How did his simple life become so entangled, so busy. He cannot have him by his side, and now everything feels empty. In the beginning, he would never even think of having the man near him. Now life seemed impossibly hard.

Spy lets the words sigh out from between his lips as he stares into the end of a cigarette and the bottom of a wine glass, trying to decipher a jigsaw puzzle of unfathomable thoughts, mind surprisingly full and empty at the same time, with Sniper the only thing that has ever seemed to bring both clarity and confusion. He wants him close, but he cannot. He wants him to keep a distance, but he cannot. There is too much between them now; fate has entangled their lives they are inescapable from each other.

 _I keep thinking in a moment, that time will take them away._

They give each other brief, sorrow-filled glances across a literal war-zone, torn between what is right by their employers and what is right to _them_. Everything hurts and nothing is enough. There is no time for stolen half-kisses and touches lighter than the breeze. The risk of being caught too much to bear.

They have seen each other killed a hundred times, in ways that are indescribable; sometimes they watch, sometimes they cannot bear it. Sniper always dies with his eyes open, his face frozen in unblinking fear. Spy dies with gritted teach, fingers clenched in the regret that he could not draw his blade in time. They have shared many moments together, facing each other, bodies taught with adrenaline; they make it a show for the others, fingers clawing at eyes and fists swinging at jaws. They nurse cuts and bruises together after, in secret moments up where no one can see.

Jumbled notes scrawled in haste left in secret places, the writers full of fear that their teammates will find them instead. The truth is never written down, only hinted at.

 _There are no words to describe it_ _, i_ _n French or in English._

Sniper often jerks in his place, expecting his enemy behind him, unshakable hands gripping his rifle harder than needed. The wind fades, and nothing has come in some time. He presses his eye back to the scope and waits. Spy is there. He sits in silence behind him, cloaked and unmoving. Perhaps Sniper is aware. Perhaps not. All that matters is these short, heartfelt moments together. The fights and blood the share and spill do not deter their views of each other.

 _These feelings won't go away._

Sometimes, they just sit. Up in the little keeps and hideaways Sniper has founded. Polite conversation and soft compliments of each other's handiwork. Sniper forgets to looks through his rifle at the combat below, and Spy puts his disguise kit away. Professionalism has vanished and made way for personal matters. Backstories are shared, quiet tales of days and battles past. Many times they have been interrupted, and it has ended in one of their lives ending yet again.

It does not deter them.

They remember each other's faces in death. Spy swiftly knifes Sniper between the shoulder blades, the knife piercing his left lung; his eyes are wide under his glasses and remain that way. Sniper shoots Spy in the gut, the bullet going through and through; Spy's face contorts into a grimacing snarl as he slumps into the corner of the keep.

Their teammates congratulate their work.

 _They've been knockin' me out lately_ _, w_ _henever you come around me._

Sometimes there are soft kisses. Sometimes there isn't. Spy jokes that his company puts Sniper off. Sniper smiles into his scope and says he doesn't mind. They light a cigarette together, sharing each other's smoke. Spys are much more expensive that Snipers hand-rolled sticks, but the scent of each compliments the other. Sniper glances over and catches Spys eyes as the Frenchman watches him from the corner, unblinking. Their smiles are soft, and they know the time they share is stolen, precious, wasted.

They never tell each other the truth, the words they mutter at night and into their cold drinks when they are alone.

They don't need to.

 _And I'm telling you._


	3. Snipers Parents

**Prompt - How did Sniper react to his adoptive parents dying? Was he distressed or kind of relieved?**

* * *

He had seen death a hundred times; a thousand, perhaps, but none had stung like this.

Going off the grid for a bit was easy; seamless. He'd done it a bunch of times. Contingency plans were necessary when your job revolves around killing and sneaking off.

Rummaging through the house he grew up in was easy too. He knew where lots of important things were kept - he had spent many childhood days sat with his mum on her bed, looking at photograph that were kept in a shoebox, digging through old jewellery, sharing stories about his old man.

Sat there now, that's when it hit him. It hadn't hit him when the mortician got into contact with him. It hadn't hit him when he drove all the way across Australia. It hadn't hit him when he unlocked the creaky front door.

The shoebox of memories sat in his lip hands. Photo albums. Love letters. Drawings he had scrawled as a young child.

He knew the pain would come eventually. Everybody dies no matter how much you love them. He supposed in a small way, there was a little bit of relief - his old dads eyesight had deteriorated significantly and was nearing blindness (the thought of that being hereditary terrified Sniper to the core) and his mum had early signs of dementia. His last visit or two, she would often stumble over her words and lose track of conversations. His dad would often end up bumping into her, or doorframes. It was kinder that they went when they did, before their symptoms got worse. The last few phone calls had been a bit more recent. He could still recall his mothers small, lost voice asking when he was next coming to visit, how his work was going, was he eating enough. His dad was grumbling in the distance. They showed loved in their own way.

They were old. They had lived full lives, lives of joy and companionship. They had worked hard and enjoyed their time together. For those reasons he didn't feel like it was unexpected. It still hurt though - knowing he would never seem them again, never hear their voices, never share any more precious moments. He couldn't say he was devastated beyond belief of heartbroken…but he wasn't empty or unfeeling either. He just felt a little lost. A little more alone in a world that already did not have many friendly faces in it.

He threaded his hands through the shoebox, pulling a few things out.

A glue and macaroni 'drawing' from when he was a toddler of the three of them stood together - his father tall and slim, only two pieces of macaroni wide, him in the middle, small and short, his mother on his other side, wider, shorter, smiling. The box was practically over flowing. School photographs of him growing up over the years. A sepia photo of his dad aiming his shotgun at a can on the back fence. A 'world's best mum' mug.

At the bottom of the box lay a letter in an old, yellowed envelope. Unopened.

His name was scrawled on the front, half-faded with age. With uneasy care, Sniper pried the envelope open, and read the letter within.

The words blurred together behind his glasses, but a few choice phrases stuck out. He couldn't tell if the words blurred from his vision or from unexpected tears.

 _'…Found you…'._

 _'…you were as good as ours….'._

 _'…we loved you like our own….'._

 _'….not your real parents….'_

He'd had backstabs less painful.

What now?

Plan ahead. Push emotions aside. Be efficient. Clever. The next step was simple.

Find his real parents.

And who would know where they area? Well, who seems to know every detail about his life, and the life of his ex-teammates?

Time to lie in wait.

Miss Pauling would come looking for him eventually. And he was a very patient man.


	4. Respawn Glitch

**Prompt - May I ask for a headcanon? Like as their S/O went through respawn, it glitched or something and it ended up with the S/O keeping the worst injuries (maybe their lost their sight or a limb?) How would the mercs help them out readjusting? (I'm fairly new to the fandom and still working out what the respawn can/can't heal. .)**

 _(I've always headcanonned that Respawn fixes anything caused by a Mann Co. grade weapons/item over a set area. Luckily, Mann Co. supplies most of the things in the mercs living quarters, so luckily most accidents are covered ((say for example Soldier throws a beer bottle at Spy and kills him, the bottle is probably a brand by Mann Co. and respawn coats the area so Spy'll be fine. Probably.)) In a fanfiction I once wrote, Respawn Family, I wrote more about how I headcanonned it functioned - I don't think there's ever been a confirmed way that respawn works. Its always fun to imagine respawn glitching though!_

 _Warning if you're squeamish? Some gore/blood mentions down here. Long headcanon is long! Aren't you lucky!)_

* * *

 **Heavy~** He watches and waits as their body flickers back into existence. For a second, they stand straight, seemingly fine. He approaches them, just to double check; something doesn't feel right. Their eyes are a little unfocused, but Heavy says nothing - respawning is a dizzying sensation and disorientating at best. After a moment of standing by his partner, he speaks.

"Are you alright?"

His partner looks in his general direction, glassy eyes sweeping over him. "Heavy?"

"Da, I am here."

"...where is 'here'?" One of their arms moves, grasping for him blindly. Oh no. The claxon sounds outside, the battle finishing. Heavy guides them around gently while they readjust to this dark world they find themselves in. Around the dinner table they talkof how it could have happened, and why. The next battle is in a few days - perhaps if his partner dies again out there, it will fix them. Overall, Heavy is worried, and mollycoddles them a little - holding their hand as they eat, head to their room, go to the showers. He's perfectly protective, but holding in his thoughts of how doomed they could be, stuck like this forever, if he doesn't find a way to fix them.

* * *

 **Pyro~** Pyro died at the same time as their partner, so when Pyro respawned they looked over in search of their partner. Odd, seemed it was taking a bit longer. After a moment, a blurry silhouette appeared, malformed and glitchy. Pyros partner popped into life but immediately crumpled to the floor, clutching at themselves. There was screaming and blood gushing from half an arm - their lovers hand was completely void, a torn up stump where their elbow once was. Pyro rushes to them and pulls the mask off, quickly shoving it over their partners head - it might alarm them at first but it will help in the long run.

"Breathe." Pyro shakes them a little. "Breathe through the filter. It'll help."

Their partner shudders and sobs in Pyros hold, clutching at the wound. Pyro falters for a moment. What was Pyro meant to do? What would be the most merciful? After a moment, Pyro stands and moves around the back of their lover. Slowly, Pyro pulls the fire-axe free.

* * *

 **Medic~** Medic was at a loss. He watched his partner stumble out of respawn, holding their face, and he thought for a moment that they were merely disorientated. When their hands pulled away, sticky with blood and a gaping hole in the side of their mouth, he sprinted to them, abandoning the other mercenary he was pocketing.

Half of their jaw had vanished into thin air. Their tongue was mainly intact, yet the right side of their lower jaw looked like it had been blown off with a shotgun; their mandibular molars had been blown clean out, maxillary molars crooked and hanging sharply. They could have easily been out of a horror movie. Medic quickly pressed his hands to the wound to stem the aching flow of blood trickling down as his partner garbled something incoherent.

"Back inside, back inside, now." Medic herded them back into the respawn room, shakily pushing them down onto a bench. He went into auto-pilot, calibrating the medic gun and aiming it at them, one hand laced together with his partners. The beam spluttered their bones back into life, as Medic winced along with his lover as the grinding crunch of a skull being rebuilt echoed in the small room. After a moment, his partner flexed their jaw and rubbed their face, shoulders shuddering a little.

"...Try not to die again today. Respawn must be acting up." Medic squeezes their hand. "I'll watch over you. I promise."

* * *

 **Demoman~** He hadn't seen his lover in todays battle that much, really. He was so focused on blasting his way through the enemy team he didn't realise they had died and respawned. As the match ended and he wandered back into the base, buzzing and happy, he froze as he saw a few of his teammates gathered around.

"Wots goin' on?"

They parted, looking sheepish, and his partner sat huddled on the floor. their pupils had faded to white and they peered up towards him. They looked like a ghost.

"Demo?"

"Love? You alright?" Demo knew the answer before the words left his mouth, and he crouched before them. He slowly waved a hand in front of them. No response. "...motherfucker."

It took time to adjust. His lover had always joked with him about his one remaining eye, how he was lucky he still had the other and that he had them to help him in the times his depth perception was lacking. He slowly led them around, one arm latched around their waist. He couldn't let them go. Not after this. Medic could fix it, or another triprespawn once it had been fixed. He gave them a grin smile and told them how hopeful he was that they would be fine. It didn't stop them from shaking a little, however.

* * *

 **Engineer~** Engineer was more upset than his lover when he found them clutching their knee - everything below that had been eviscerated and his lover had been left with a gory stump gushing onto the linoleum.

"I'm alright, Engie. I'm fine. It's okay." They kept repeating it to him, slowly growing more pale as Engineer scrambled in the resupply closet for something to stem the bleeding. He could handle machines being torn open, he could handle seeing blood, but he couldn't stomach his lover in pain what so ever.

"Engie, it's fine, it's okay, I'll be alright."

"Wouldja just - shut up and let me fix you, damnit!" Engineers shoulders were shaking as he wrapped bandages around the wet limb. "Damnit...respawning would be easier than fixin' you up, sweetheart."

"Too late for that, I've already respawned. I came out like this."

Engineers stomach sank. Shit. If the thing keeping them alive was broken then everyone was screwed. He tightened the bandages around their leg and kissed their forehead quickly. "Stay here. I'll see what I can do. I've either gotta fix the system or call the fight off before we all get hammered."

He quickly stood and raced for the door. He paused and glanced back, his lover sleepily looking up at him. Soft and pale and covered in blood.

"...I love you."

"Stop wasting time and go get help, Engineer."

* * *

 **Spy~** It was by chance he found his partner - he had slipped into the respawn room to head to the resupply closet; the enemy Soldier had him cornered earlier and he had unlocked the contents of his revolver into the bastard, so bullets were needed. He hadn't anticipated to see his lover curled into a ball in the corner - the wall behind them was splattered with blood and skin marks trailing downwards towards them suggested that they were wounded and had slid down the wall for support.

"Cher?" He paced towards his partner, dumbstruck for a moment. Had they crawled in here to get help? They looked pale. If they were dead then respawn should have got them by now. He knelt beside his partner and lightly touched their shoulder. "Amour?"

His partner wheezed up at him, eyes flickering. "...Spy..."

"I can't...I can't help you. You-you're 's too late for me to heal you up." He didn't mean to stammer. When had he ever stammered before? He glanced at the supply closet. Nothing in there could fix the wound.

"...already. Spy got me... Earlier." His partner clutched at their sides, blood pooling from their back. "...brought back like this."

Spy felt himself go pale. His partner gurgled a little. The stab wound would have severed part of the spine and likely punctured a lung. It was slow and horrid. Spy felt incredibly guilty. He bent down and kissed their forehead tenderly.

"I'll see you when you wake up, cher."

He stood, turned his back to them, and left the respawn room.

Looks like he'd have to do some digging to find out what was going on behind the scenes.

* * *

 **Scout~** When Scout pushed into the infirmary after the battle, he thought he as the last one to receive his checkup - he hadn't realised his lover would be stretched out over the gurney, ankle cracked at an unnatural, painful looking angle. It was almost entirely twisted back on itself.

"Yo, Doc, I- oh, Jesus! What the hell?"

"I respawned like this." His lover looked up at him. "I can't move it and it hurts."

"What the hell? Is respawn broken or something?"

"A few of the others are looking into it. Its hopefully just a one-off glitch or something."

"Jeez...so what now?" Scout eyed the defective limb warily as he slid to sit next to his partner.

"Well, we're going to give it a blast from the medi-gun, and if that doesn't work I'm going to kill myself."

"I'm bein' serious, babe."

"So am I. Once respawn is fixed, that may be the only way to get myself back to normal, so...I may just limp over to the enemy base and let them have at it."

"Aw, c'mon, thats no good." Scout moved, lying next to them now. "Theres gotta be a hundred ways to off yerself better'n that. Get a load of booze and drown ya in it, or I could push ya off the roof if ya want?"

His lover snorted. "How am I supposed to get on the roof with one leg?"

"I could carry ya."

"Scout, you can't carry a tune, let alone someone bigger and stronger than you."  
"Hey, screw you man I'm trying ta help!"

They laughed. Of course they did. Faced with the topic of death, mutilation and suicide, trust Scout to make it lighthearted and fun.

* * *

 **Sniper~** Sniper had frequent nightmares about losing his eyes - they had never been particularly strong, and years of squinting through the lens of his rifle made them tired. But his eyes were his work, without them, he would have nothing.

Well, almost nothing.

His lover visited him maybe once or twice while he was working - a quick visit to say hello and check on each other before running back into the heat of battle. That's how it was, thats how it worked, and it was good. So, when Sniper heard the soft clunk of feet approaching he pulled away from his rifle for a moment; the only people who visited him was his lover and the enemy Spy, and the enemy Spy was never so noisy.

"-Sniper!"

Neither was his lover, for that matter.

"Love? Y'alright?"

"Shit, Sniper, I need help."

Sniper let his rifle clatter to the floor as he raced down the stairs. It didn't matter even if it was a trap, he had never heard his lover so pained.

They sat at the bottom of the stairs, head covered in blood.

Sniper swiftly slid down to their side. "Shit, what happened?"

"I got shot in the face, I think an enemy Scout or Soldier, it was definitely a shotgun. And I woke up like this. I can't see, Sniper." They were forcing their voice to be strong. Sniper pressed a thumb and forefinger to their chin and tilted their head towards him.

Half of their temple was gone, a bloody buckshot slicing into the side of their skull. A lot of bone was on show. it wasn't surprising their vision had gone, no doubt some of the scattered shrapnel pellets had severed _something_ in there. Sniper was no doctor, but he knew a bad wound when he saw one.

"Piss, that looks bad. And you woke up like this?"

"Yeah, I've already respawned. It doesn't...hurt, not really, but something isn't right."

"You can say that again. Shit, I dunno what to do. We gotta get you fixed up." Sniper threaded his long arms under his lovers legs and lifted them, carrying them back into his nest. He sat them down at his feet.

"...I've got a few supplies up here, but I can't outright fix you, not without the medi-gun or..."

"Or killing me again and hoping like hell."

"It's an option."

"J-Just wait, for a bit. I can patch you up enough to stop any bleedin' and we can wait until the match ends and we got time ta think, just...just stay with me, okay?" his voice softened. He couldn't imagine what they were feeling - he didn't want to.

After wrapping up their head the best he could, he slid down to the floor next to them and held his lover close. The team and battle could do without them today - they would have to.

* * *

 **Soldier~** Soldier had lost limbs before - hundreds of times, probably. He'd grown numb to the sensation of bodily pain. However, seeing someone he cared for in pain was entirely new and different to him.

He had respawned without issue - their Sniper had clocked him real good in the side of the head - and woke up feeling fine. He hadn't realised his significant other was sat to his side on the bench.

"Soldier." Their voice was dead, and it took a moment for Soldier to look over - despite being used to respawn, it often left his head a little fuzzy. He spotted them immediately, their uniform in stark contrast to the pale room.

Their leg was gone. From the knee down it was just gone. There was a splatter of blood but it wasn't bleeding now, it was just a stump, but gashes along the edge showed that respawn had tried to fix it from the inside-out and failed.

"Could you give me a hand, here?"

"Looks like you need a leg, more." Soldier muttered as he approached, concerned. His gut felt heavy and full and bad. He needed to wrap up the leg to keep it clean, and then bring over someone with more medical experience.

Soldier swiftly tore off a piece of his coat, wrapping the material around the wound securely.

"You should stay here-"

"-where would I go? With one leg, Soldier?"

"...I'll go grab someone to help fix you up." He huffed a little, hands faintly stroking over the damaged limb. He tried his best to make his voice softer. "Please stay here. I don't want you getting more hurt."

His lover visibly softened infront of him. Despite the wound they smiled a little and patted his cheek.

"I'll stay here. You go be a big hero and grab some help."

"...Do you need me to yell at the sky?"

"Please don't."

"I'll do it, I'll yell at the sky for you." They both chuckled a little.

" _Soldier!_ Fuck off and go get help!" Their grin faltered for a split second, and Soldiers smile faded almost entirely. His lover barely ever cursed, so it must be serious. He leant into them and gave them an almost bristly kiss on the cheek.

"I'll be back for you, private." He said as gently as he could muster.

"Don't take too long."

He gave them a swift salute as he pulled away, before running back out into the sand.


End file.
